Lipstick Lullabies
by HollywoodGirl15
Summary: Sobriety. It could cure everything but the addiction to her, to what they did, to the things they said.


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story, besides the OCs and Plot. I do not intend to make any money off of this, it's just for fun. Title credit goes to the song When I Get Home You're So Dead by Mayday Parade.**

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Black cotton sheets rustled early in the morning, much to the dismay of the quiet atmosphere around the room. Her shoes were discarded next to his jeans, just vying to lean over and whisper to the bed what had happened. Everything in the room, and everyone in the party, knew what happened. It always happened. It was a never ending circle, no matter how much the latter of the party tried to break it.

The sunlight streamed through the peaking blinds, reading to squeal and see the boys reaction this morning. Strings were crossed that he'd actually care, since the night before involved no alcohol. The drawers' eyes were covered by his discarded shirt, desperately wishing that they could peak at the blow up that was sure to happen next. After all, that serene and tranquil scene that had taken over the two between the last few hours were just that; sleep. Once awake, it was like a hurricane would strike the bedroom.

Pictures decorated the walls and dressers, painfully pointing out the mistakes and accomplishments that the boy had completed. A wide spread grin in each picture, thumbs up of dorky days, and awkward smiles when the camera fell on him entirely too much. Nobody took notice to it, and he used them for his own personal inspiration. He had always been his worst critic.

Black edging just hitting the carpeted floor woke up the senses in the floor boards, creaking with anticipation of the alarm clock going off in another minute. From there, everything was a game set and match, everything turning like clockwork. Everything in the room tensed for a moment, then the news reports from Scranton filled the silence much to the dismay of the peaceful scene. The boy's hand fumbled around for the object in disdain, wanting to smash it onto the floor for waking him. When he found the snooze button successfully, he hit it and recoiled his hand to his stomach. No longer crisp with gel, his dark brown hair fell over his closed eyes as he focused on returning to the peaceful state of mind that had completely indulged him. His bare arms hugged the black comforter to him, and just as his mind slipped into the indulgence once more, the alarm rang out furiously. Groaning and finding the off button blindly, the boy let out another groan and opened his eyes.

Momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight, the boy snapped his eyes shut once more, rubbed them, then reattempted the previous task. This time he was successful, letting his eyes adjust slowly to the light. The aching in his body made him grimace, and he was suddenly fighting the urge to slip out of bed and to the relaxing jets in his shower. Stretching his arms high above his head and stretching his legs at the same time, the aching slowly started to dissipate. Letting out a satisfied sigh and allowing his body to rest once more, he let his eyes wonder around the train wreck of his bedroom.

His shirt rested on the handles to his drawers, his pants near the door, his shoes kicked off by his closet to join her heels, slacks, and blouse. A small smirk graced his face as the memories hit him full force, and he brought his gaze back to the black comforter around him. Slipping his arms underneath and attempting to warm them momentarily, he glanced over at the sleeping back still turned to him, unphased by the alarm clock.

Pulling a face that he wasn't famous for making, the boy slipped out of the bed and towards his rather luxurious bathroom. The tile made a shiver run from his toes to his fingers as he made his way quickly to the shower. Hot water knob turned all the way, a splash of cold water, and the boy was inside his relaxing indulgence once more. His head leaned back against the tile that was now forming sweat droplets, and he felt his body completely relax as thoughts from the night before flooded his senses, awakening him more than he really wanted them too.

Just another night at the office, like usual. That's how it always started, after all. Neither of them ever had a day off it seemed, and with frustrations and tensions running high, the work place was an absolute hell. Michael had managed to try and rack Ryan's brain for an hour before Ryan had finally threw his hands up, storming out of his office and placing himself firmly in his rolling chair. His back ached and creaked with the piece of wood, and he was now biting on the pen that was between his fingers. His hot breath hit his hand that was now shaking, and he pulled in a deep, calming breath.

Casually, Ryan's eyes traveled over towards the girl at the desk just across from him, letting them run over her hair and down to her face. She seemed to have the perfect heart shaped one that had Ryan holding in his breath whenever she glanced his way. The girls eyes were a perfect shade of green, and her dirty blonde hair accented them nicely. She was average by far, but she always had him biting his lip. It nearly took everything he had not to launch himself over his desk and have his way with her on a daily basis.

As if on clockwork, his eyes broke away from her face just as she looked up, and he moved them to the bronze name plate on her desk. The name 'Valarie Conners' was etched in with black to fill the cracks. To the west of it, a few pencils and pens sat, along with her phone. Leaning ever so slightly, Ryan could catch sight of her black work slacks that hugged her legs, despite everyone in the office's objections.

From there, it was always small glances, smiles, short words when in the presence of other people. Ryan could practically find himself drooling whenever he let his mind completely wonder to her. As he sat in the break room munching down his cup of Ramen noodles, he knew it'd only be a matter of time before Valarie was up against the wall, his lips completely covering hers. They'd be pressed into the wall, hips pressing up against one another as they battled for dominance. From there, it was subtle, breathless motions until they had managed to slip out the back door undetected, hands barley able to stay off of one another. His car, his place. She only lived a block over, after all.

From there, all the motives were complete instinct. There was no relationship, no happy 'good mornings' shared between them. Mutually, one person would leave before the other returned to the bed, all ready mentally preparing themselves for the same rendezvous later on that day. After all, the cycle would continue, it wouldn't be any different. It couldn't be; they were both getting what they wanted out of the ordeal. Ryan didn't want a serious relationship (he had attempted to try that somewhat with Kelly…part of him was glad she was gone), Valarie was still new and didn't want to get in too deep with someone.

It was no longer an endless Catch 22; now it was a meaningful, innocent fling.

Opening his still tired eyes, Ryan let out a loud yawn and quickly did his morning shower routine. If he didn't hurry up, he'd be late for work. All ready having one of those notched underneath his belt, Ryan didn't feel comfortable with his status. His job was all ready teetering on the line as it was, and he reluctantly forced himself out of the steam room he had created.

Wrapping his towel around his waist and heading out into his bedroom, he found it emptied and without a single hint of any other human life forms. Scoffing to himself, Ryan shook his head and pulled on his clothes. From there, he retreated back to his bathroom and dried/styled his hair.

Grabbing his keys and heading out of his home that smelled heavily of her Ed Hardy perfume, Ryan was on his way to his newest rendezvous.


End file.
